Cold Days & Warm Nights
by Puggy-Robin
Summary: When your best friend want to go on holiday to the ass end of nowhere and freeze your asses off. But you say yes because you're in love with him. The cold isn't so cold when love is involved and the snow can be romantic.


The first thing Jean noticed as he got off the plane, was the cold hitting him in the face.

 _Damn._

He hated the cold. It made his cheeks sting and turn a girly pink. It made his nose run and his lips chapped.

He'd bundled himself up in layers. His favourite hoody clinging to him over an old jumper and thick t-shirt. His jeans still had holes in, and his knees were frozen. So were his toes, his old worn shoes offering no reprise.

Yeah, Jean hated the cold.

So why was he here freezing his balls off?

Well…

He looked to his right to see his best friend.

 _Marco_.

It was all for Marco. Everything he did, he did it for Marco.

He'd wanted this adventure in the remote Norwegian mountains. He'd wanted to travel and explore the ass end of nowhere. But more importantly, he'd wanted to explore the ass end of nowhere with Jean.

And that thought alone made Jean's cheeks turn a girly pink with something other than the icy cold.

If braving the bitter cold meant he got to spend a week alone with Marco, then so be it.

Marco was his best friend, it was true, but that didn't mean he couldn't be in love with him too. And he was. He was so utterly in love with the guy that his insides melted just thinking about him. And when he thought about spending a week in the same hotel room, his melted insides started to boil.

Jean had realised his feelings a few months ago, when he'd gotten stupidly drunk and cuddled up to Marco when the alcohol had taken its toll. It was comfortable there, curled up beside him, head in his lap. He'd felt safe and wanted when Marco suddenly started running his fingers through his hair. He never wanted it stop. Like he could just sit there and let Marco pet him for eternity. And that's when he realised that's what he wanted for the rest of his life. Just Marco patiently loving and enduring him. And above all else it was warm. Everything about Marco was warm. From his personality to his actual body temperature. Jean loved him and everything about him, and would till the day he died.

They caught a train from the airport to the major city. From the city they caught another train headed north towards the remote destination of Flam. Jean had snorted when Marco told him the name of the place. It sounded like 'flem'. Like something nasty you cough up after a bad cold. Marco had just shook his head and ignored him.

They got off at some small quaint station ready for their transfer to the next train that would take them to their final stop. So many trains. It was snowing and Jean wished he could look around and see all the wonderful things around him. Like the deep crisp snow blanketing the land, the tall mountains like something out of a postcard, the mirror like lakes and the picturesque houses dotted around the countryside. But all he could look at was Marco. Marco and his big brown eyes taking in what Jean could not. Marco was beautiful with his rosy freckled cheeks and the little flakes of snow catching on his long dark lashes. He wanted to kiss them away and make those cheeks red for a different reason. He sighed contentedly, watching as Marco took pictures.

"Is something wrong?" Marco asked, turning to look at him. Jean felt his face heat up, he didn't mean for Marco to hear him sigh like some lovesick teenage girl.

"No. Everything is fine. Just… fine." he smiled back, nervously sticking his in his pockets.

"Are you sure? I'd hate to think I'd dragged you here and you hate it." Marco looked down trodden and Jean felt his heart hit the snowy concrete.

"What?! No! I don't hate it. I promise. You know me, I just like to complain for the hell of it. I mean, I'm cold… but I'm happy." he walked closer to his friend and gave him a reassuring nudge.

Marco look at him with a bright smile.

"You mean it? You're happy?" he looked so innocent and hopeful that Jean just wanted to hug him.

"Absolutely. I'm always happy when I'm with you Marco." he beamed from his lopsided smile. Only realising what he'd said when Marco blushed bright red.

"Th-that's good then." Marco stammered, trying to hide his blush under his scarf. Jean just nodded his head awkwardly and scuffed at the snow with his feet. "Jean I…" he started, but couldn't seem to get the words out.

Jean waited silently, his heart beating so hard it sounded like a drum.

"… I, I'm always happy when I'm with you too Jean." he said quietly. So quietly that Jean almost missed it.

"That's. Good. Then." he echoed stiffly. His hands were sweaty. They were cold even in his pockets but they were sweaty.

"Umm." Marco nodded, his cheeks still an embarrassing red.

They stood like that for a while, neither looking or speaking to the other. They stood like that until Jean thought…

"Screw this!" he shouted, making Marco jump and clutch at his chest.

"W-what?!" Marco rasped, the colour draining from his face.

"I said… Screw this!" he shouted again. Some of the people at the station were looking at him but he didn't care. He couldn't wait any longer. "Marco!"

"Y-yes." he answered, looking like Bambi caught in the headlights of a speeding monster truck.

"I LOVE YOU!" he shouted even louder. He heard Marco gasp but he couldn't stop now. He took the few remaining steps between them and closed the distance. He grabbed Marco's warm freckled hand in his cold clammy one and decided to never let go of it again. "I love you so fucking much Marco! So much!" he said it quieter this time.

"You love me?" Marco practically whispered. His hand was shaking and his cheeks were blushing again.

"Yes! So shut up and tell me you love me too!" he demanded.

"I can't…" he started, Jean's heart was seconds away from breaking but he wouldn't allow it. He knew better.

"Don't lie Marco! I know you love me too! No one would put up with me this long if they didn't!" he scolded. He wasn't above self ridicule, he knew he could be a difficult person at times, but it never seemed to bother Marco one bit. "So just do it!"

"Do what?" Marco squeaked, but Jean could see the corners of his mouth twitching in humour.

"You know damn well what! What I just told you to do!" he growled, squeezing Marco's hand tightly. Marco blushed even more.

"You told me to shut up and tell you I loved you. But Jean…" he smiled sweetly. "… how could I possibly do both?"

 _Devil. Sweet, adorable, cute Devil._

"Do you want me to shut up? Or do you want me to tell you?"

"Marcooooo! Don't tease me!" he whined and Marco giggled. "You know which one I want." he pouted. The pout only worked against Marco. It was his weapon of choice to get Marco to do what he wanted.

Marco gave a put on sigh and shrugged his shoulders.

"Ok, I'll shut up but will you really be happy with that?" he batted his lashes at Jean and he just growled back.

"Marco! Tell me now!" he snapped, grabbing him around the waist and pulling him closer than they've ever been before.

Marco's hands were at his shoulders, holding on tight. They were face to face. Eye to eye. Their breaths mingled and rose to the up together only to disappear into the snow filled air. Jean's throat felt dry. Their mouths were so close he could kiss him with minimal effort and be lost for eternity. Marco's eyes were blown wide, the chocolate irises reflecting him back, his freckles dark against his heated cheeks. They stood there together, just staring at each other, speaking volumes without uttering a single word. Yet, Jean wanted words. He wanted those three little words repeated back to him, even if it was only once.

"Marco, please…" he whispered, his breath tickling Marco's lips and making him shudder in his arms.

Marco nodded, he didn't make fun this time, he took a deep breath, the air tasting of Jean.

"Ok. Jean I…" the train rolled in, disturbing the air. Lifting the snow up around them as if they were in their own personal snow globe. As the snow started to fall around them, lacing their hair and eyelashes with soft intricate flakes, Jean finally got what he wanted. "…I love you." Marco whispered, his voice shaking with emotion.

Jean took a steadying breath and smiled widely.

"Thank you." he whispered back and before Marco could answer, Jean kissed him.

It was long and gentle and Marco melted in his arms.

Jean had never been happier.

They were finally on the train, travelling through the romantic snowy mountains of Norway. And the cold was outside. And he was inside. And he was with Marco.

He shuffled closer to Marco, leaving no space between them.

"Are you cold?" Marco asked.

"Yes." he lied, snuggling closer.

"So needy." he joked, wrapping an arm around his best friend, his boyfriend.

"Yes." he hummed.

"You're not even denying it?" Marco laughed.

"Why bother. You know me best. You know when I'm lying." he smirked.

"Yes." he smiled back.

"By the way" Jean started.

"Hmm?" Marco stared out the window at the passing scenery, a content smile on his face. Jean thought it was a beautiful view.

"Next time I'm choosing the holiday and we going somewhere hot!" he'd decided.

"But I burn easily Jean." Marco whined and Jean just snorted at him.

"If I'm freezing my nuts off for you, you can get nice and crispy for me!" he stated.

"Fine" Marco sighed.

If it was what Jean wanted, he'd do it. Everything he did, he did it for Jean.

Besides, having Jean rub sun lotion all over him everyday didn't sound too bad.


End file.
